by Gini Koch
“I do, Kathy, I do.” Nice to know he remembered our undercover nicknames from Operation Confusion. I was all over nostalgia for that—we’d kicked butt big time.
We went to the ATM machine I’d spotted. It was one of the ones that wasn’t actually attached to any bank and also charged an outrageous transaction fee. Good. No one was going to feel a twinge of guilt, particularly me.
Fall Out Boy were sharing their disdain for others’ opinions, and I was revved. Now was as good a time as any. “Ready?” I asked softly. White nodded. “Then here we go.” I took a deep breath and screamed. “Oh, my GOD! It’s raining money!”
White used hyperspeed and started spraying money out. I grabbed a chunk of bills and did the same, still squealing my head off.
Unsurprisingly, it worked.
People came running from all over the terminal as we sprayed the money in the direction away from the Goon Squad. As they arrived, many squealed along with me and called to their friends and relatives. Others tried to jostle for position. A couple of airport employees actually tried to protect the money. It was chaos, but chaos that was centered far enough away that the Goon Squad would have to leave position to regain a hostage opportunity.
I looked around. Some of the Goons were heading toward the rest of our group. However, I saw a shimmering and watched as the rest of our team disappeared through the floater gate, using hyperspeed. Absolutely no one noticed, other than possibly some of the Goon Squad, at least the ones who slammed into the Security Desk as the gate disappeared.
Not all the Goons were busy explaining why they’d lunged at the desk, though—some were looking like they really wanted in on the money grab. I had no guess as to what the balloon man had been paid, but he’d dropped a balloon mid-giraffe and raced over along with everyone else.
White did something to the cash machine, and it actually began spewing money, too. “Great thinking.”
He nodded. “I can now comprehend the plan, and part two has to be the two of us running in the opposite direction.”
“I love having the best of the best as my partner. Ready?”
“Yes, the machine shows no signs of slowing.” He threw some more money, a big roll, up high and the money fell like big, greenish snowflakes. The entire terminal was filled with people grabbing the cash. We were also getting jostled. Time to go.
I grabbed his hand and we shoved through the crowd. I smiled sweetly at the Goon Squad and we ran for the escalator heading down. We didn’t stand there, we ran down the steps, but at human speeds.
We reached the bottom, and I looked back. I didn’t have time for a full head count, but it looked as if the majority if not all of the Goons were after us. So far, so very good.
White yanked me, hard, and ran us back up on the up escalator. “Why are we going back up?”
“More of them coming,” he replied shortly. I looked behind us. He wasn’t kidding. While I’d been checking out the first Squadron of Goons, another plethora had shown up on the lower level.
We crested the top, and I saw a sign for the elevated Metro station. I dragged White along, and we raced up the escalators, Miss Li’s “Bourgeois Shangri-La” on my personal soundtrack. I agreed with her—we really did need to get away.
“Why the Metro? I was under the impression the trains weren’t running.”
“Right. So we can have the Goon Squadron chase us there, and no one’s in danger.”
“Other than us.”
“Well, that was the point, right?”
“I though the point was everyone escaping unharmed.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.” We ran, pursued by a lot of goons. We were only dodging them because White was controlling when we used a burst of hyperspeed and when we just ran at human normal. “You’re really good at altering our speed.”
“I’ve been doing this for decades, Missus Martini. You’ve been learning for three months. There are some things I’ll naturally be more expert at. This is one of them.”
“No complaints here.” There were no trains in the station and no other travelers, either. I looked around. There were, however, more goons than I could count. “Did we seriously just get roles in The Matrix Really Reloaded or something?”
“No. We’re just popular.”
“Well, at least they’re not shooting at us.”
“True enough. Possibly because we’re trapped.”
This was sort of true. We couldn’t make it back into the airport because every doorway was blocked by a lot of goon bods. However, that hadn’t been my plan anyway.
I jumped onto the tracks, pulling White along. “Which way heads us back toward the Embassy?”
“I believe this one,” he said as we took off at human normal. The platform was raised, and neither one of us wanted to risk falling off.
The sun was starting to set, and I realized the day had really gone by quickly—something to be said for your best friends giving birth combined with a lot of intrigue. It also meant we had even fewer hours to figure out what was going on. However, this wasn’t my exact concern at the moment, so I decided to table those worries for later, like when we were back at the Embassy.
We kept running, the sound of Clutch’s “Electric Worry” revving me so that I didn’t feel all sprinted out. Despite years of track training, which said that runners who looked behind them lost their races, I turned around. “No one’s following us.”
We both slowed down to a decent jog. “Are we still alone?” White asked a few minutes later.
I checked again. “Yeah, we are.”
“Does that mean we can stop running now?”
We both heard the sound at the same time.
“Um. No. I think that means we want to run as fast as humanly possible. And by humanly, I really mean alienly, at the best hyperspeed either one of us can manage.”
The headlight confirmed to our eyes what our ears had already picked up. The Metro was running again.
CHAPTER 38
NOT ONLY WAS THE TRAIN HEADING RIGHT FOR US, but it was going a lot faster than I figured it should be if it planned to stop for passengers. Then again, I had a feeling the only passengers planned were me and White, and if we became train hood ornaments, that was undoubtedly in the bad guys’ playbook under the “happy outcomes to troublesome problems” header.
“Back or forward?” White asked.
“Rock or hard place, you mean.” We were still up in the air and it was too far to jump off the tracks and have a hope of landing safely. We also had no time to make the decision. “Jumper” by Third Eye Blind came on my iPod and, along with it, an idea. Worked for me. I did what I’d been doing for the past couple of years. I went for the crazy.
I took off, dragging White with me, heading right for the train. The jump was going to require split second timing as well as a sincere hope that White was up for it. “Do you trust me?” I shouted as we raced toward the train racing right back at us.
“Yes.”
“Then jump as high as you can right now!”
We jumped. Our momentum allowed us some lift, but clearly Michael wasn’t the only A-C who could jump, because White was the reason we actually landed on the top of the train instead of into its windshield.
“Don’t stop!” he shouted, as we continued to run along the top of the train. He didn’t have to tell me why—the station had a roof, and we’d be slammed into it if we didn’t keep on running in the opposite direction.
“Just like Paris,” I called as we sailed over the gaps between cars.
“Let’s hope not.”
We reached the end of the train fast. Neither one of us hesitated. We jumped off. White pulled me into his arms midair and managed a good wrap and cover. We landed, on his shoulder, I was pretty sure, and rolled.
Once we rolled to a stop I staggered to my feet. “You okay?”
White nodded. “Somewhat.”
I reached down and helped him up. “You look a little worse for wear.”
“
You’re not a party yourself, Missus Martini.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
“I agree.” White cleared his throat. “Are you, ah, able to manage the hyperspeed?”
“I think so.” I took a closer look. “Richard, you’re bleeding.”
“I am. I’ll heal faster than you would have.”
“You’re holding yourself funny, too.”
“I believe my shoulder is dislocated, and I imagine I’ll need a stitch or two. Now isn’t the time to dwell on my injuries, which are relatively minor, albeit unpleasant. I’ll be fine, however, I used quite a bit of energy on that jump.”
“Gotcha. If you can, please God, steer, I’ve got the hyperjuice. At least for a few miles.”
“I believe a few is all we’ll need.”
We took off again. I was tired, too, so I was going at the slow version of hyperspeed, which always sounded like an oxymoron but really existed. We were still going fast, but someone with sharp eyes could have spotted us as blurry images.
White’s steering ensured I didn’t run us off the tracks. After a short while we were even with the ground, and we got off the tracks. Just in time, as another train barreled past, right after its homicidal brother.
I had no idea where we were, but White seemed to, so we ran along the street, passing cars as if they were standing still. If it wasn’t for the fact that I knew he was hurt, I would have possibly enjoyed this. As it was, I wanted to get home, and by home I really meant either my parents’ house in Arizona or the Dulce Science Center in New Mexico. Sadly, neither was an option.
We crossed the river. “Oh, look. The Potomac. Let’s not go swimming.”
“No argument from me, Missus Martini.”
We were decently far away from the airport when I felt us slowing down. I was a sprinter, and while I’d spent time on distance, both when I ran track and since joining up with Centaurion Division, I only had so much gas in the tank on the best days. This was absolutely not one of the best days.
We were at a walk in a matter of moments. “I’m sorry, I can’t run anymore.”
White nodded. “I’m fine with a rest.”
I spotted a big parking lot nearby as Go West’s “The King of Wishful Thinking” came on my iPod. We walked through it, slowly, stopping several times to rest. The sun set fully. The lighting in this part of the parking lot wasn’t impressive. It figured we’d have to stop for a rest in the Creepshow Parking Lot.
“I think we’re by a mall.” Though there weren’t a lot of cars. Then again, for all I knew, whatever had kept the taxis away from National had kept customers away from the mall, too. I looked around but couldn’t spot so much as a security golf cart, let alone a police car.
“Good. I hope.”
I dropped my iPod back into my purse and dug my phone out. Jeff answered on the first ring. “Where are you?”
“We aren’t sure. At a mall near the airport. Richard got hurt.”
“WHAT?” Jeff’s bellow was always impressive.
White took the phone from me. “Hello, Jeffrey.” I could hear Jeff shouting. He sounded beyond freaked. White sighed. “Jeffrey, I’m not the Pontifex anymore. Yes, actually, that does mean that I’m able to risk life and limb. No, she’s not hurt, or if she is, she hasn’t mentioned it.”
“Fine here. You blocked the impact.” Apparently Jeff heard me, because I could hear him asking what impact I was talking about. He was merely yelling, not bellowing. “Tell him to stop scaring the baby.”
“Your wife would like me to pass along the gentle suggestion that you’re likely distressing your child. Ah, well, then, feel free to keep on shouting at me.” I couldn’t hear Jeff anymore. White was trying not to laugh. “Yes, apology accepted. I understand. It’s been a trying couple of days. I believe Kathy was calling for us to get a lift.” White gave up and laughed. “Yes, we’re undercover again. Not really, if you catch my meaning, however. Yes, thank you. Good.”
He handed the phone back to me. “Jeffrey would like to speak to you while they send a team to fetch us.”
I dutifully took my phone back. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“It’s never your fault. How badly is he hurt?”
“I don’t know. He thinks his shoulder’s dislocated, and I see blood, but not a lot. We had to jump off the train tracks.”
I could hear Jeff take a deep breath. “Fine. I’m going to get all of this from you once we have you both back and secured.”
“Who’s coming to get us?”
“People we can trust.”
“You’re staying at the Embassy, right?”
“Yes. Not that I’m happy about it, let me add, but Reynolds and your mother have both thrown high-level security temper tantrums and are now both insisting that once one of the team returns, he or she isn’t allowed out again.”
“I guess there were a lot of us running around these past couple of days.”
“You in particular. Anyway, sit tight, baby. Your ride will be there shortly.”
I was going to ask again who was coming to get us when I heard what sounded like a muted sprinkler system. “Who’s coming for us in a chopper? C.I.A. that we like, C.I.A. that we don’t like, someone from our team, or an assassin?”
Jeff cursed impressively. “Figure it’s an assassin. None of us sent a chopper.”
“Okay, hanging up, love you, gotta run. For real. Someone find us and fast.” I flung my phone back into my purse, grabbed White’s hand, and took off.
“I thought you said you were run out,” he said as we headed for one of the buildings.
“It’s amazing how people coming to shoot us from the air gives me that ability to go on.”
We rounded a corner and were greeted by the sight of a lot of goons. I couldn’t be sure if they were the same squad from the airport, but they had the same look, and they certainly had the same earpieces.
“We’re officially in a Matrix movie, Mister White. And I’d like to go for popcorn and a Coke.”
“Well, we could take in a movie, Missus Martini, but I’m not sure we can do that without endangering everyone inside.”
White leaned up against the building. This wasn’t a good sign. “Richard, how badly are you hurt? I want the truth, not a reassuring statement.”
“I’ve been better.”
I looked around. We were essentially surrounded. I could possibly push myself and get us…somewhere. But I was lost around here still, and White seemed to be in need of, at minimum, a lie-down and some pain meds. Stitches and God knew what else were probably going to be a necessity as well.
The goons were moving casually. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe they didn’t think we’d seen them since we weren’t running away. Either that, or, as was more likely, we were completely surrounded, and they could conserve their energy.
“I’m feeling very Alamo-ish again.”
“Again?”
“Had that feeling during Operation Fugly. Having it again now.”
On cue, White winced at the name. “I shudder to discover what you’re going to name this initiative, Missus Martini.”
I was about to say that my main goal was to have us survive to be able to name it anything other than Operation Rest In Peace when I saw goon bodies fly. I blinked, and then the last person I’d expected was in front of us.
CHAPTER 39
“I HOPE YOU TWO ARE DONE playing around,” Christopher snapped. I was treated to Patented Glare #2. His father got Glare #5. Christopher was a glaring artist.
Of course, as I thought about it—while Christopher flung his father’s good arm over his shoulder, wrapped his arm around White’s waist, and grabbed my hand—it made total sense. He’d been ready to do something similar during Operation Confusion, after all, and had been restrained by my mother, Chuckie, Jeff, and Gower. And Jeff had Jamie to consider and protect. Plus Christopher was as tired of not kicking butt as the rest of us.
“Hang on,” he said. Then he took off, at the fastest hyperspeed
I’d ever experienced.
We barreled through the bad guys as if they weren’t even there. Everything seemed to be standing still, other than my stomach, which shared that I might be enhanced, but this speed was beyond my new limits.
I didn’t pass out or barf, but only because it was over fast. We stopped. Sadly, we weren’t at the Embassy. We were, however, no longer surrounded by bad guys, so this was a great location as far as I was concerned.
“How’d you find us?” I managed to gasp out, in between retching.
I got Glare #3. Wow, he was really pulling out all the stops to impress. I was sort of sorry Amy was missing this show. I was sure she’d find it hot.
“I’m enhanced, remember? I can see you if I want to. Jeff shouted that my father was hurt, I looked, saw what was wrong and where you were, and left.”
“Against a direct order?”
Christopher shrugged. “I was moving too fast to pay attention.”
“You mean you were far enough away from Mom or Chuckie that they couldn’t grab you.”
He grinned. “Something like that, yeah.”
“When did my mom get there?”
“Right after Reynolds called her and told her what was going on and what you and my father were doing.” He shook his head. “Dad, you shouldn’t have gone with James.”
White rolled his eyes. “Yes, son, that’s exactly what I need right now. A lecture.”
“No, you need your shoulder put back in and a couple of stitches.”
“Why aren’t we at the Embassy? Or anywhere else I’d consider safe?” I looked around. “Where are we?” We were in a doorway near a street corner as near as I could tell. There were cars and stoplights, so street corner somewhere seemed likely. Trees were blocking the street signs, so I had no clue, not that my seeing the street names would have likely told me anything anyway.
“We’re on the way home. I could tell you both needed a break from the speed,” Christopher said. “We’re stopped here just so you two can normalize. Then we’re moving again. So try to stop gagging.”
“Sorry I’m the delay.”
